


I Like You a Latte

by mynameisnoneya



Series: The Lady and the Stranger [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coffee Shops, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Mild Language, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 00:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameisnoneya/pseuds/mynameisnoneya
Summary: While sharing coffee with Sandor, the very, very tall man whom she met while shopping in the feminine hygiene aisle, Sansa Stark discovers that he's not afraid to make a scene - or to make a move.





	I Like You a Latte

**Author's Note:**

> This story gives a brief glimpse into Sansa and Sandor's attempt to share coffee together after they meet while shopping for unmentionables less than one hour earlier.
> 
> Although this story can stand alone, it is meant to read after _Always Carefree,_ the first story in this series.
> 
> General disclaimer: GoT characters and quotes belong to GRMM - I own nor claim nothing!
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please let me know by leaving comments and kudos!

Sansa Stark was standing in line at Hotpie’s Café around 9:30 on a Friday night.  She had just left the grocery store with her brand-new feminine hygiene product shopping buddy, Sandor, and had walked the three blocks with him to share a cup of coffee at his request, and if her ginormous companion for the evening was feeling generous, maybe a sweet treat to boot. 

Along the way, Sansa had never laughed so hard in her 25 years on the planet.  The very, _very_ tall, muscular man with the colorful language and shoulder-length hair was extremely funny, possessing a quick, dry wit that had her literally snorting at least once at one of his jokes.  Listening to his deep, baritone brogue was definitely doing something to the inside of her gut, and damn her if she didn’t actually get off a little on the way the sidewalk full of bustling foot traffic here in downtown Westeros had parted for the two of them while they lazily strolled toward their destination, almost as if Sandor were her knight in shining armor, blazing a trail for the fair, redheaded maiden as they made their way to a tourney.  The man really needed his own zip code, he was that huge.

_I wonder if the rest of him is as big as he is tall…_

Yup.  Sansa was certain.  It definitely _had_ been a long time since she’d gotten laid.

“So, what can I get for you?” the young, heavily tattooed barista at the register asked Sansa, who stood there surveying the menu while standing at the counter with Sandor.  She’d been here plenty.  She knew the menu by heart.  She was quite the regular.  In fact, she always ordered the same thing and sat at the same table.  Boring was the story of her life.

_Nothing is boring about tonight, though._

“I’ll have the lemon cappuccino, extra foam, with a dash of cinnamon on top, please,” Sansa requested with a huge, toothy smile, pleased beyond belief for going out on a limb and exploring the deeply buried, hermetically sealed adventurous side of herself tonight.  Quickly darting her eyes up to Sandor, who was standing stoically behind her while holding their purchases in two separate plastic grocery sacks, she cocked a perfectly manicured ginger eyebrow, silently asking permission for something more.  He simply grinned at her, raising his one existing eyebrow in return, almost challenging her to do it.  “And a double chocolate chip muffin, too,” Sansa added to her order, enjoying the way Sandor’s whole face lit up at hearing her request.

_He’s really quite cute when he smiles like that…_

“And for you, sir?”

“I’m no sir,” Sandor snorted under his breath, shuffling forward slightly toward the counter, “Gimme a coffee.  Black.”

“That’s _all_?” the young lady at the registered frowned, her nose ring raising slightly as she wrinkled her face, not even bothering to disguise her haughty annoyance, “Just a black coffee?”

“Did I stutter…Shae?” Sandor growled, his voice dripping with irritation, his silvery eyes narrowing slightly as he scanned the petite brunette’s name tag while replying to her.  He continued to stare at her in utter defiance while reaching for his wallet.

Stunned by the huge man’s terse response, the wide-eyed barista froze, her black polished nails hovering over the register in mid-air.  The trendy, bo-ho chic coffee shop was quite busy tonight, so full in fact that Sansa was absolutely positive that at least five other patrons milling about the front counter must have overheard Sandor.  Although Sansa typically _hated_ making a scene or being anywhere within a five-mile radius of any scene in progress, she actually found herself snickering slightly. 

“Uh…right, sure…one black coffee,” Shae muttered, ringing up their order as quickly as her fingers would fly over the register key pad.

As Sansa drifted across the café toward her normal seat with Sandor following closely behind her, she stopped at a small two-seater table nestled against the massive picture window that offered a terrific view of the city scene outside.

“So, Sandor,” she began as he pulled out her chair, scooting her to the table before sitting down himself, “What do you do when you’re not buying unmentionables for your deathly ill sister from Scotland or inviting a strange lady out to coffee?”

“I’m an exercise physiologist,” Sandor laughed while fiddling nervously with the little plastic sign on the table advertising the café’s weekly specials, “I also do some personal training part time at my buddy’s gym.  And you?”

“I work at my dad’s ad agency,” she smiled as the server brought out their snacks.  Estimating the combined caloric content of the oversized muffin and the candy-bar-posing-as-coffee now sitting in front of her, Sansa grimaced.  “Wow.  If I’d known that you were into being healthy, I would _not_ have ordered my entire daily intake just now.”

“I’m not the food police,” he chuckled, grasping his mug in one hand before blowing slightly on his cup of joe, “And since you look like you know how to take care of your body, I’m not all that concerned.”

_Did he just…oh, mercy me…he so went there!_

Sansa’s cerulean eyes widened at his little comment.  Apparently, Sandor was fully aware of the implication of said comment by the way the side of his mouth quirked upward as he sat his cup down on the table in front of him.

“Well, since you’re a professional and all,” she replied, trying to act all nonchalant and unfazed, yet sounding way more breathless than she had hoped for, “I’ll take your word for it.”  Pulling her muffin into halves, she grinned as she stuck one half out toward Sandor, “Interested?”

“Definitely,” Sandor answered, tentatively reaching out to take the piece of muffin from her small, pale hand.  When their hands connected, Sansa swallowed hard upon contact.  For a few brief seconds, they just sat there in the crowded café while staring at each other, hands linked in space and time by a crumbling blob of chocolate carbs.  The sound of Sandor’s cell phone ringing in the side pocket of his black athletic shorts broke the spell.

“Damn it,” Sandor growled as he lowered his half of the muffin onto the table, reaching into his pocket.  As he swiped the screen of his cell phone, he rolled his eyes in frustration, “It’s my sister…fuck.  I forgot to call her.  Will you excuse me for a minute?”

“Sure, go ahead.  Do you need to leave?” Sansa asked, hoping that he didn’t.

“Nah…just let me tell her to hold her fucking horses,” he replied with a grin, “She can wait a little.”  The huge, incredibly cut man with the salty tongue rose from his seat, immediately snarling into the phone in some foreign language ( _Gaelic, maybe?_ ) as he wandered toward the main entrance.

Left on her own for the moment, Sansa took a deep breath.  This evening was definitely drifting into some unchartered waters.  She hadn’t been on a date since breaking up with Joffrey three months ago.  Margaery had tried setting her up with a coworker and then a guy in her building, but Sansa wasn’t interested.  After dealing with her pathetic ex-boyfriend and his whiny, immature butt for almost a year, she had declared herself officially off the market.

_Maybe I need to rethink that position.  Maybe I need to rethink lots of positions…_

Lost in her reverie about her coffee date while munching on her treat, she didn’t hear the main entrance bell chime, and she certainly didn’t notice the short, blond rich guy and his dark-haired flunky heading straight for her.

“Well, well, look who’s here tonight,” Joffrey huffed as he and his slightly taller buddy stood directly in front of Sansa’s table, “Been missing me, doll?”

_Of course, he’d come here tonight.  Of.  Course.  God, what did I ever seen in this guy?_

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t live without you.  I’m completely lost.  Now, do you mind?  I’m kinda busy here,” Sansa sniffed, rolling her eyes at him, waving her hand in total dismissal.

“Still bitchy as always, I see,” Joffrey snickered, shooting his buddy, Meryn, a knowing grin.

“Listen, you and Tweedledum over there can fuck off, alright?  I’m not interested in dealing with you and your shit.”

 _Who the hell just said that?  Me?_  

Sansa was having an out of body experience.  She was on the verge of willfully inciting a scene of her very own tonight, right here in the middle of the busy coffee shop.  Only thirty minutes in Sandor’s company, and he already was starting to rub off on her.

“That mouth of yours…so dirty,” Joffrey sneered while his crony, Meryn, laughed at the innuendo, “Too bad you didn’t talk dirty like that when we were together.”

“Go.  Away.”

“Maybe I’ll join you.”

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because.”

“Because why, eh?”

“Because the lady told you to bugger off, mate,” a low, menacing voice rasped behind Joffrey and Meryn.

“Who the fuck do you think you - ” Joffrey barked as he whirled around to act all tough and fierce.  His threat died on the vine.  His nose literally bumped into a massive male chest ensconced in all black save the silvery, scary looking medieval dog head plastered across his ample pecs.  Looking directly up into the air, Joffrey’s slimy green eyes just about popped out of his head when he got a really good look at the enormous man scowling down at him.

“Sansa, is this little prick bothering you?” Sandor inquired, folding his long arms in front of his chest, never breaking eye contact with the phenomenally shorter man who was beginning to quiver.

“Yeah...he is,” Sansa responded slowly, completely enjoying the moment.  The horrified look spreading across Joffrey's face as well as the freaked-out expression plastered all over Meryn Fucking Trant’s ugly puss made her want to whip out her cell phone and snap a photo to enjoy later.

“You don’t…you don’t scare me,” Joffrey postured, putting his small hands on his narrow hips while shooting a look at Meryn, obviously wanting some back up at the moment.  Breathing hard with his brown eyes blown wide, Meryn didn’t even look at Joffrey.  With his mouth agape, Meryn didn’t look like he was steeling himself for battle.  Not one bit.  He looked like he was preparing to relieve himself right there in the middle of the café.

“Then you’re even more of a sorry cunt than I thought,” Sandor chuckled darkly, taking an impossible step forward, virtually engulfing Joffrey’s last vestiges of personal space.

Joffrey swallowed hard.  “Come on, Meryn,” he spat as he backed up quickly, “Let’s get out of here.  There’s nothing but losers in here anyway.”  He turned on his heels, sassing Meryn to move it as they both hurried toward the main entrance, bursting out of the front door so fast they almost ran over a young couple entering the café.

_Holy, holy hell.  That was incredible…_

“Thank you,” Sansa gushed, the sound of her voice sounding eerily muffled as if she were under water.

“Any time,” Sandor mused as he returned to his seat, “It was nothing.  This face scares off everyone.”

“Not everyone.”

“Is that so?”

Sansa bit her bottom lip, calculating her next move.  “Yeah.  That’s so,” she answered as she reached across the table, placing her dainty hand on top of his big, callused one. 

Clearing his throat, flipping his palm upward, threading his fingers into hers, Sandor’s steel gray eyes narrowed briefly before he shot her a terribly sinful grin.  “Can I ask for your number?  Because I like you…I like you a _latte._ ”

Throwing her head back in complete glee, Sansa laughed at his dorky pun until her sides hurt.  “Yeah...you can have my number.”

_And if you play your cards right, buddy, you just might be privy to a whole lot more, too._

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wonder how the rest of Sansa's evening will go...anyone else curious?


End file.
